


Don't Go

by TheGirlintheOrangeBeanie



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Comfort, First Meetings, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlintheOrangeBeanie/pseuds/TheGirlintheOrangeBeanie
Summary: Pitch is a being who enjoys a calm, pleasant environment with a predictable routine. He keeps to himself and enjoys his peace and quiet. One day though, a completely unique strain of fear graces his sense. He can't help but follow it. To his surprise, he is lead to a white haired boy in a tree.
Relationships: Jack Frost & Pitch Black
Comments: 5
Kudos: 123
Collections: Reigay





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Super short but I found it half done on my files and decided to finish it up and post it cause why not?

Despite what anyone thought, Pitch did not live in a cave or some filthy remote castle. Well, the remote part was true. What he lived in was, in a way, a skyscraper. Even he didn’t know the full extent of his lair. There were floors on top of floors, endlessly looping hallways, rooms that lead to other rooms, endless paths. To the unwanted guest it was a hellish maze, but to him, the immense size was intriguing. Like no matter how lonely he felt, he could always go exploring to take his mind off things. It was a good home. One that had housed him for longer than he cared to recall. It, more so than any one else, was his steadfast companion and protector in the long periods of stillness or in the aftermath of attacks and recovery. But no matter how big it was, it was still just close enough to the surface that he could feel the fear of anyone near the entrance.  
Usually it was the fear of a lost child- desperate and terrified. Sometimes it was the fearful thrill of a teenager sneaking out for the first time.  
But as he went about his afternoon routine of making tea before going to his library, he felt a unique spike of fear. It held a layer of pure desperation, yet the diluted fear of a simple phobia. And it was somehow more powerful than the fear of an average child or teenager. What or who could possibly have fear like that?  
Pitch set his cup down- giving into his curiosity and sacrificing the pleasantness of routine. 

Upon rising into the human realm, nothing was out of the ordinary. There was no whimper of a child nor the nervous giggle of an adolescent. In all honesty, perhaps the woods were a bit too quiet. Usually there was at least one mischievous soul out and about this time of night. Nevertheless, Pitch followed the pull of the odd fear.  
Snow swirled around the otherwise calm forest, weaving through the slumbering bare trees. The slight chill didn’t bother him, nor did most warm climates. Extreme temperatures were more of an annoyance, but he’d happily endure for the sake of satisfying his curiosity. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but as the saying goes in its entirety, satisfaction brought it back. The pull lead him to, of all things, a white headed boy sleeping in a tree.  
Strange…the fear didn’t feel like it belonged to a human. Yet clearly the boy was, though the white hair was a bit unprecedented. It also seemed like the lad was in the midst of a nightmare. He tossed and turned atop the branch (how he didn’t fall Pitch could not understand) and every now and then he would let out incomprehensible murmurs and whispers.  
Pitch melted into the shadows of the tree branches to get a closer look. Although the sliver of shadow was small, Pitch’s entire being fit inside it. To him, it was like standing in a big black room with the boy just outside his window.  


Now that he was closer, he could just barely make out what the restless young man was saying. “No…I’m here. See me!” The boy curled into himself as if shielding his body. Interesting. Perhaps this boy’s parents neglected him? The broken sounds nearly made Pitch wince. He was no softy but even he held pity for a broken child. He held his hand out, reaching past the shadows that housed him and cupped the boy’s forehead. He needed to know exactly what he was afraid of if Pitch was going to help him handle his fear.  
Upon making contact, Pitch could see…everything. Perhaps more than he was prepared to. Ice, a feeling of suffocation, endless days and nights desperately searching for someone, _anyone_ to seem him. _Please, someone see me. I’m real. I am! I exist, I’m right here!_  


Pitch shuddered, his hand never leaving the boy’s head. So that’s it then. He’s a spirit. And a new one at that. He withdrew mentally, no longer wishing to go through the young spirit’s mind. His hand however remained. His thumb moved in gentle circles, wanting to comfort the troubled youth as much as he was able. To his surprise, the boy grew stiller. The toss and turns grew less violent until they ceased all together, even his breathing deepened unlike the uneven pants and gasps from earlier. Encouraged, Pitch uses his second hair to run through the silvery white locks. 

Was this okay? He didn’t even know the boy; maybe he was overstepping his boundaries. Unsure, he withdrew his hands. The boy’s fear had lessened anyway, so his job was done. He should leave. It wasn't safe to be out in the open like this; not after last time. Doubt clouded his mind though. Was this really the right choice? He would have given anything to have a friend when he first came into this world, and now he had a chance to do that for someone else. But it was so dangerous, what if this was some sort of trick? Should he stay or should he go? 

Suddenly a hand reached out, gripping Pitch’s wrist. He jumped, but left his wrist limp. To his surprise, the boy was awake, his eyes wide open in a bright shade of blue. “Please…” the voice was rough and scratchy from a lack of use. “Don’t go.”

Pitch hesitated, wanting to dissolve away, back to the familiar safety of his liar yet also longing to remain and comfort a being that has felt similar frustrations as he once did years and years ago. He took a deep breath, his tense shoulders relaxing. He outstretched his hand once more, placing it against the boy’s cheek. 

“I won’t leave you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically this is chapter 1 but from Jack's POV

Being alone is a funny thing.   
It’s lonely, obviously, but at the same time it’s oddly kind of freeing. 

There was no one to yell at him or tell him what to do like he had seen so many parents in the village do to their kids. Jack Frost was his own person and could do whatever he wanted. And more often than not, he did just that. Whatever he felt like doing in a given moment, he did it. If he felt like making a blizzard, it happened. If he felt like starting a snowball fight, a hilarious war would ensue. Jack always had fun. 

But the problem with doing whatever he wanted and always causing such enjoyable mayhem, was that he had no one to tell his adventures to. In the beginning he would simply talk to the kids despite knowing that they couldn’t see him. He’d tell them a snowstorm was about to come, ask if they wanted a snowball fight, even respond to conversations the kids were having with their friends. That helped for a few weeks. It stung though to never get a reply back.   
Sometimes he’d go to the most crowded and loud towns to drown out his usual plague of silence. For awhile it worked. The world around him was so loud he didn’t even notice that none of the conversations were directed at him. It was kind of nice. 

As time went on though, those loud conversations grew hollow. He began to feel like a ghost. An unwelcomed spirit intruding upon the vibrant lives of the living. He left the world of crowds for the time being. 

Back in the rural mountains, every now and then he would write messages in the snow, praying someone would see them. Yet it seemed that his words were as invincible as he was. No one noticed him. No one cared. This made Jack Frost sad. And very, very angry.

He went on a rampage. He was done. So, so done with being invisible. Maybe no one could see his little notes but they sure as hell would notice a major snowstorm. So he made one. And another. And another. After creating horrific snowstorm after snowstorm, people started dying. Whether from frostbite or starving in their buried homes, dozens perished. The anger faded to be replaced by raw soul crushing guilt. He killed who knows how many in The Great Snow of 1717.   
Jack Frost knew then why no one saw him. It’s because he didn’t deserve to be seen. 

He was an evil, vengeful spirit. He didn’t deserve anything good after that disaster. Who would care for someone so angry? So broken?

He stayed away from people after that. For good. He figured humans would be much safer without him around. He told himself it was for the best. That he didn’t need people, didn’t need to be seen or talked to. But his unconscious mind betrayed him.   
Each night, though he never remembered, Jack had nightmares. Horrific dreams that left him heartbroken and aching upon waking up. He could never remember what caused his soul such pain, but the ache remained for hours on end.   
One night was different. One night during his dreams, a warmth graced his head. Not the searing heat of fire or the irritating burn of the sun, but a pleasant warmth.   
He sighed, wanting to lean in but not quite conscious enough to move. That is until the warmth pulled away. Not thinking, his arm latched out of its own accord, desperate to have the comforting aura back.   
His eyes jerked wide, “please” he whimpered. His eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness of midnight, but he could still spot two striking eyes of gold. He hadn’t imagined anything then. Someone was really here. Someone who could see him. 

“Don’t go.” Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone again. _You deserve to be alone._ An evil, hateful voice hissed in his head. _You deserved every millisecond of misery._ Jack’s breath hitched, fighting off a sob. 

The gold eyes closed. For one terrifying moment Jack Frost though this person would leave him. Left to rot. But instead a warm hand cradled his cheek.   
“I won’t leave you.”  
Losing the fight, Jack Frost sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not planning on continuing this au as of right now, however I do want to do a nonromantic fic for Jack and Pitch and when I do, chances are it'll be from this au since I've already established it. If interested, subscribe in case I continue this. Also, thank you Lortan for your amazing comment on the first part. Your comment is the only reason a part 2 exists so I hope you like this little chapter :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
